


Cinders Turn to Ashes (But Assholes Never Change)

by misura



Category: Powers (TV)
Genre: Explicit Language, M/M, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-12
Updated: 2015-12-12
Packaged: 2018-05-06 13:04:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5418134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Fuck me," Christian said, and laughed. "You taste like a fucking ashtray."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cinders Turn to Ashes (But Assholes Never Change)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fenellaevangela](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fenellaevangela/gifts).



"Fuck me," Christian said, and laughed. "You taste like a fucking ashtray."

It was, Johnny decided, probably not _the_ shittiest thing Christian might have said under the circumstances, but it definitely made the top ten.

"How would you know, huh?" he asked. "You date a lot of ashtrays?"

Christian looked faintly alarmed - the d-word, no doubt. Commitment was not a thing Christian was particularly comfortable with. _I want to get tied down, I'll pick up a fucking dominatrix to get that shit out of my system,_ he'd said, on one particularly forgettable occasion, which was typically Christian.

"I'm just saying," Christian said. "You want to look cool, _be_ cool. Pretty sure smoking stopped being cool, like, in the sixties or so. Shit's going to ruin your lungs and shit."

"Thank you, Christian, for that public service announcement."

Johnny didn't smoke to be cool. He'd accepted, as most people were forced to accept at some point in their lives, that there were things he was really, really good at and things he wasn't.

He was not good at being cool. It just wasn't _him_. Wolfe always said people should figure out what they were, and then _be_ that person. Wolfe was a monster, but that didn't mean he hadn't been right about some things. Johnny smoked because he liked it. Because smoking _was_ him.

Christian kissed him again. Johnny decided not to comment that he tasted like cheap beer. What would be the point? You're on the couch, making out with your best friend; you're both not really drunk, but tipsy - why would you choose to ruin that moment by saying something shitty? Like talking someone into taking them home with you and then criticizing their interior decorating on the way to the bedroom. You'd have to be a total asshole.

"It's true, though," Christian said.

"For other people, sure. Smoking's very bad for your health. I mean, it says so on the packs and everything, so I guess it must be true."

Christian laughed. "I meant about you tasting like a fucking ashtray. Dick."

Obviously. What was more important, after all: Christian's pleasure, or other people's health?

"All this sweet talk. Are you trying to make me blush?" There should be stories, Johnny thought. About Christian, getting kicked out of bed by some girl for being such a fucking asshole.

"Nah. Waste of effort."

Not a bad kisser, though. Johnny'd have liked to pretend he'd had better, but unlike some people, he didn't exactly have girls throwing themselves at him - or boys, for that matter.

"Yeah. I'm easy, huh?" He was, he thought. When it came to Christian, nearly everyone was.

"Two-beer queer," Christian agreed. It was amazing, Johnny thought, how downright offensive Christian could be without making any sort of effort whatsoever. It was hard to decide if that was adding insult to injury, or if it actually absolved Christian of some of the blame, because he was thoughtless rather than malicious. It probably depended on the publicist.

"Really." Johnny didn't make it a question. There was no _need_ to make it a question.

"Shit," Christian said. "Not like _that_."

_Not like what?_ Johnny considered asking, but he knew it would be pointless. Wolfe said that the greater the power you had, the greater the discipline you should learn. If you flipped that statement, Christian should possess barely enough power to maybe light a candle. Or flick a light switch from the other side of the room. To levitate half an inch.

Truly, there was no justice in the world. Just a whole lot of assholes.

"Well, if the point you were trying to make was that I wouldn't touch your dick with a ten-foot pole while sober, I believe I might agree with you." It might even be true.

Rare was the night that both of them were completely and entirely sober, and rarer still the night when they were together when that happened. Johnny was fairly sure Christian preferred it that way.

"Why would I want you to touch my dick with a ten-foot pole? Or any pole of any length, for that matter?"

"I don't know, to check if it really is bigger than anyone else's? I know you have that inferiority complex when it comes to dick size."

"Oh, fuck you," Christian said, but he was grinning.

"Not on the couch, dear." Johnny had standards. He also had regular contact with the cleaning service that was supposed to come in here once every two days to tidy up. They charged extra for furniture.

With Christian's endorsement deals, they weren't exactly hurting for money. Still. Some conversations, Johnny simply preferred not having, and if that made him a prude, then so be it.

"Fuck. You mean that if I want to get some, I'm going to have to get up and _walk_?"

"I would advise against flying. You might break something, and I actually kind of like that new lamp."

"Fuck the new lamp," Christian said. He'd picked out some of the posters, but the majority of their condo was still filled with stuff that total strangers had picked out for them (well, for Christian).

"An interesting idea, but anatomically impractical, given its shape."

Christian rolled his eyes at him. "What the fuck is _wrong_ with you tonight?"

"I took up smoking," Johnny said. He was becoming more mature, he thought. More _him_. Christian wasn't really interested in becoming anyone else - or, fine, he was, but the guy he wanted to become wasn't _him_. Diamond was an alter ego, not an ego, let alone a superego.

"I could swear you had at least as many beers as I did."

"Oh," Johnny said. He realized he kind of wanted a cigarette. "That. I figured out how to use my powers to sober myself up. Not all the way, obviously." If only because it hurt like a bitch.

Wolfe said pain could be a learning tool and a weapon and also a warning that you were fucking things up, and that it was up to you to figure out which, preferably before it killed you.

"You ..." Christian laughed and shook his head. "That's fucked up, dude."

Johnny remembered the balcony. He remembered Christian letting himself fall, just so that Johnny would push his powers, try to do something he'd never done before.

It was easy, sometimes, to imagine that deep down inside, Christian was actually a nice guy. A little bit easier to imagine that his heart, at least, was in the right place.

"Be that as it may," Johnny said, rising, "I am headed for bed. Would you like me to bring you a blanket? A pillow? A lamp, perhaps?"

"I think that all this new shit you're doing to yourself is turning you into a fucking asshole."

"Maybe you're just a very persuasive role model."

"Seriously, fuck you."

"Promises, promises. You coming or what?"

Christian grinned at him. "Not even breathing hard. Yet."


End file.
